Residual Exposure
by Phoebe Delos
Summary: Sometimes revelations come only after the dust settles.


**Title: **Residual Exposure  
><strong>Author:<strong> Phoebe Delos  
><strong>Fandom: <strong>Yu-Gi-Oh! DM  
><strong>Rating:<strong> **PG** for mentions of dark themes. You'd have to know to catch it, though.  
><strong>Characters &amp; Shipping: <strong>Kaiba Seto & Yami no Yuugi, Prideshipping.  
><strong>Word Count:<strong> 1,782  
><strong>Spoilers: <strong>Pretty much the whole (manga) series through Battle City, but this particularly springs from "The Entrusted Card" and "Showdown in the Heavens" chapters just before the final duel.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I don't own a thing from the Yu-Gi-Oh! franchise, and there's enough people fighting over it already.**  
>Summary: <strong>Sometimes revelations come only after the dust settles.**  
>Notes: <strong>Despite a few mentions of the "other" and second face and so on, Seto's calling Yami no Yuugi, Yuugi, a la canon. Reviews and critics would be very helpful, given this is a challenge piece with more to follow. Also, anyone want to be a beta?

* * *

><p>Why did he give it to him? Why did he give him that card?<p>

Staring through his own reflection and that of a flashing laptop and sleeping brother beyond, Kaiba Seto remained blind to the ocean outside his office window, gaze set on an island too far away for him to ever spot. But even if he could, there would be nothing to see. The explosion he set off weeks ago had erased any sign of the old tower, down to the artificial land it was built on, and he had sent expeditions behind him to clear any remaining rubble floating about. Even the smoke had long cleared, leaving an expanse of clear, unobstructed sea. Nothing was there anymore.

But while he had been right, that destroying the arms dealer tower had rocked the foundations of grudge long in need of shaking, allowed the hate to slowly start to crumble away to nothing, he remained transfixed on the site. Not for the distant past, but for the recent.

All that occurred plagued him.

The memories did not hold the same sway as the years he now worked to put behind him. There was no consuming need to deny or sneer at what was just before him. But that could be put down to how he'd now surrounded himself with his own dream. With the day-to-day machinations of KaibaCorp passed onto trusted board members until he returned from the States (his bi-daily check-in on figures and updates and his order on being informed of any questionable change did not count), the only people Seto saw on any regular basis were his brother, his employees, and the contractors he debated with over the benefits of various building sites along the West coast. Nothing but family and business and growing dreams. There was nothing here for him to ignore.

It was what lay across the ocean, in the past, that badgered his mind, cutting in on reading the latest reports emailed to him. And he had no reason to waste his time on it. What happened at Alcatraz was over. He had lost, Yuugi had won against all odds, and pushed Seto on his way on the path he now followed. Whatever his wavering certainty on the drivel Yuugi and Isis pressed on him throughout that tournament, he remained set that something three thousand years did not, would not touch him. There was nothing to gain from looking backwards, which was why musing on things passed now was ridiculous. Even with questions still hanging, they shouldn't matter to him now!

But they did.

And unless he discovered why, he couldn't break free to focus on what did.

So he let go of his work, turned his back on his hotel suite to face the Pacific, to sift for what exactly pestered him, purely to recognized and uproot it from his mind.

_Enough_ had happened there to be certain, even neglecting what happened on the mainland, in the air. He could admit to some flashes of importance – seeing through Marik's tricks and guiding a blind Yuugi to his first God, the loser showing a hint of usefulness, Isis's claims to fate that however wrong and foolish curved his path – among the nonsense of the Ghouls and Millennium Items and dead men, but the majority of it was a means to an end, everything from the moment he gained Obelisk leading to his final fight against Yuugi.

And he lost.

A month ago the reality still stung, still painted the memory in a fog of resentment, the same one that focused his attention on the hate Yuugi accused him of, on ridding himself of it and rising from the fight anew, ready to win once and for all.

Now, his vision had cleared even further. He might still grit at the memory and work through the duel in his mind for a hint of where his ultimate deck cracked, but he could look back for more. Now, he saw what came of the loss.

What would have happened, if he had won that duel, and even emerged victorious against Marik? Would he have demolished Alcatraz, and would it mean anything? Would he have heard his brother's cries to change any clearer than he had at Death-T? Would he have embraced the dream he threw to the wayside to nurse this vengeance without the loss?

What would he have left in his victory, but three powerful cards in empty hands?

Perhaps losing at this point was a coincidental blessing in disguise. Most of what Yuugi and Isis and their friends claimed was still rubbish, and he would never accomplish his wins with another's help, who could claim his success. The only one he could trust with that was Mokuba, and even there, their victories should stay separate, if now assisted. Yuugi could keep his clique to himself.

But the loss, Yuugi's words pushed him to admit, however much his support system left a sour taste in his mouth, it worked for him. He watched him, experienced a loss he calculated impossible, and then another against Marik, against all odds.

And he helped him get it.

Why? Why did he help him? If he'd kept Devil's Sanctuary, Yuugi's chances would have been worse, but the difference wasn't enough to make a true difference. That was why he doubted, why he told Isis her faith was pointless. The data and research and numbers all showed, Yuugi shouldn't win this. But still he gave Yuugi a small boost, a boost that could prove him wrong.

Why?

Reasons had flooded his mind over the days, that he was concerned of Marik's escape before Alcatraz blew, that he didn't want to see Isis go down with him, that he wanted to show her even with that little bit of help her faith in her so-called pharaoh was a false reality, that he wanted to see for himself that his rival could rise above even this.

In the end he had, and Seto nearly accepted it with satisfaction. But no, the question would ring again... Why? Why did Yuugi's victory matter to him so? Yes, it helped to know the man that defeated him didn't have someone stronger above him, but the urge to support him was even stronger than when he saw him against Osiris. That didn't make sense. Then, he didn't want him to fall out of his tournament, to crumble before he destroyed him himself. This time, there was no fight to come. Seto had been ready to leave them to their final alone.

Again, alternatives came. Again, he turned his fight with Isis, Mokuba's pleas before he rose to the top of the tower, looking for something there to excuse his actions. Yes, Isis's words rankled him, yes, his brother moved him, but the elusive answer, the underlying reason could not be denied when he dug this far.

He wanted to help Yuugi, because he mattered to him.

The revelation had the sting of a shot perfectly aimed, and it burned all the more for the fact this was one thing he could not trace, or take apart. The growth of this feeling, the explanation of it was too tightly wound in their rivalry. How could he find explanation for this among a history of fights and reluctant alliances and a trust that had no reasoning? And digging for more always brought to mind that tablet (A eulogy for a friend, indeed.) and Isis's claims of a past. He had no use of the past. And why should he look for answers to this?

He would never have to explain it, as he was now.

He would not take this admission back to Domino. He had a new dream, one to build with his brother, who would expect decisions of land purchases, not sudden return trips across the ocean. And there would be no one awaiting his return. Yuugi might still be there, but he was following the same road he always had, meeting his latest molding-at-the-edges destiny and dueling losers - the regular reports of observers assured there was nothing more than that. But how Yuugi wanted to waste his time was his own business, for now. Their battle was not over, but it was on hold, until their paths crossed again, until he was ready.

And even if he did return, what was there to say?

He had no tournament to announce, no new-found tactic to try or arena to challenge him in. He expected nothing more from the second face without something to show for himself. Yuugi was never one to face a challenge, a revelation from him off the field, and he was not ready to fight. Next time, he would have more than a newly-calculated ultimate deck, a plan to prove them both worthy before they faced again, to check his rival had not tripped on his endless path, steps always two ahead of him, before he proved himself once and for all, earned back his pride and peace from the king that haunted him.

He would have the proof of what he'd already done, the sites and parks and success to show to him his only remaining obsession did not hold him back, or sink him in the shadows Yuugi claimed surrounded him. Each day, each phase of his project finished was a step closer to breaking the chains he cracked at Alcatraz, throwing the shackles down where Yuugi could not deny them.

Then, when he could show there were more important things in the present than the past-

"-big brother?"

Seto turned about to see Mokuba propped on an elbow on the couch, under the coat he threw over him hours ago. His eyes were still unfocused, but the light from the television the younger Kaiba left on showed his confusion. He normally didn't speak up and question his elder working, even this late, but seeing only the back of his chair must have thrown him off.

Seto rose, closing his laptop as he crossed the room.

"Let's go to bed, Mokuba."

A couple blinks, but he followed willing enough. This wasn't too strange either, given since Battle City he followed a proper schedule with a bit more regularity, sleeping most the nights a handful of days out of a week. And turning off the news, slipping into the bedroom with the lights off, the groggy Mokuba missed the signs of determination regrowing in his brother's face.

When he could show Yuugi the hate was gone, that he had won his fight with himself, he would face him again. He would win.

Then they would see what was left for them.


End file.
